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That word again... donors. It just cements what I’ve already concluded. We’re to be used as blood banks for these overly powerful vampires. Used and eventually discarded for another.
“This is your last call to sample the blood and make your final decisions.”
The room starts to move in and out like a kaleidoscope. My body sways and my head feels light. There is a real possibility that I’m going to collapse right here on this stage. The faces of the men and women are going in and out of focus. Their eyes shine brilliant shades of blue, amber, but mostly red. A tsunami of frightening images appears. The faces of the people below me contort into hideous sneers, sharp canine teeth protruding from their mouths.No.
Perhaps I have already died, and this is some sort of purgatory. The room begins to spin as recollections of the girl from the cell, being bitten and drained of blood, flood my memory. I breathe in and out, willing myself to calm down. You can survive this, I repeat over and over again, trying to calm myself to no avail.
How can there be any possible way out of this alive?
A strong breeze blows above us. My head lifts to find a giant industrial fan moving the air around the room. I close my eyes, breathe, and allow the air to cool my clammy skin. Soon the spinning recedes, and I open my eyes to take in the actual monsters in front of me.Vampires.
“All right, ladies and gentlemen, it’s time. Let the bidding begin,” Ratilda announces over the speaker. “The auction is a tradition that’s gone on for centuries. It was started by our beloved late Crown, Darius Bellamy. To him we are forever grateful for bringing our kind a way of survival, without the threat of wiping out our food source.”
Chuckles, grunts, and hurrahs are heard around the room.
“Well... and it’s a lot more convenient than hunting,” she crows. “What else do we need all that power and money for? It’s why men pay extravagant prices for sex... it’s better when we have it on call at a moment’s notice,” Ratilda’s voice grows low and frightening. “Blood from a fighter is better than blood from the willing.”
Again, the room erupts into laughter and cheers.
Disgusting. The whole lot of them. They’re not doing this to survive. They’re doing it for convenience and because they can. We’re nothing but human slaves to be fed off of.
“We’ll start with number seven-ninety-one.” She motions toward the short blond girl. “Seven-ninety-one hails from the Southern region of the United States. She’s the perfect heavy lifter for those projects you have.” The room erupts in laughter at the blonde’s expense and I want to throw up. So not just to be fed off of, but for whatever warped purpose they choose to use us for. “Seven-ninety-one, please step forward.” She does as directed, stepping forward into a bright spotlight. “The bidding will begin at two million US dollars.”
“Two million.” The plump woman in the white wig waves a paddle in the air.
“Wonderful. Do I hear three million?” Ratilda asks, looking around the room with wide eyes and a Cheshire cat grin. “Now surely you won’t let this wonderful creature go?” She looks at the blond girl and tsks. “Or perhaps she should pay you.” She throws her head back in laughter and the others join her.
The blonde begins to weep, body shaking from what I can imagine is embarrassment and fear. I want to go to her. To wrap her in my arms and tell her to be strong, but nothing I could ever say would make things better.
“Fine then. Seven-ninety-one to Countess Devoir for two million dollars.”
The woman nods her head in satisfaction.
The auction goes on for what feels like forever. The mousy girl is sold to a purple-haired woman for twenty-two million, the girl from the cell next to mine is auctioned off to a lesbian couple for thirty-four million, and the Asian beauty was just sold to a French man for fifty-one million. The obscene amount of money these creatures possess nauseates me. Every girl seems to bring more dirty money to this detestable cause. Stacey and I are all that’s left, causing my insides to toss.
“Who shall be next, friends?” Ratilda calls out.
My gaze meets Stacey’s. The fear shows on both of our faces. Neither of us is ready to be sold off, but we know there is nothing we can do to stop it.
The noise level starts to grow as those in the crowd shout their preferences. My eyes land on the strange couple from earlier, and fear coils around me like a snake does its prey. The man’s lips turn up into a wicked grin. He must know how scared I am. It has to be written all over my face.
He can smell your fear.
I steel my resolve, not wanting him or anyone else to see me break. The more I try, the more I feel like I’m going to faint. Just as the room starts to sway again and my vision blurs, a loud bang sounds from the back of the room.
Everyone spins to look at the cause of the ruckus. The place is eerily quiet; not a monster speaks. The stage we are on is not tall, and with the spectators blocking the view, I can’t see. Standing on my tiptoes, I try to catch a glimpse of what has everyone still as statues. Seeing nothing, I lower myself, wringing my hands together nervously. These frightening people all appear to be confused. Whatever is going on can’t be good.
My eyes land on Ratilda, and what I see there does nothing to ease my growing panic. She looks almost frightened. What could possibly have her frightened? She’s the monster running this awful auction. I’m still watching her closely when her entire body relaxes and a wide, sinister grin transforms her face.
“Well, well, if it isn’t the Crown playboy,” she croons, all sugary and sanguine. “Welcome, Lawrence.” Ratilda makes a low bow, smirking as she stands. I can’t see the person she addresses, but whoever he is, she finds him to be attractive. The way her cheeks pink and her lashes flutter, it isn’t hard to surmise. Her voice is flirtatious yet reverent, only providing further evidence that whoever this Crown playboy is, he’s got her full attention.
“Ratilda, it’s always a pleasure to see you.” The boyish voice sweeps across the room. “I’ve brought a friend today. I’m sure you all know him, so why is nobody showing their respect?” the man says stonily, and every single one of these creatures bows low. The other man, whom I’ve yet to see, doesn’t say a word.
“Please, excuse my brother and his stiff formalities. I’m only a spectator today. Rise.” His voice washes over me. Smooth and masculine. My body reacts in ways it has no business doing, knees going weak and body swaying slightly. I cringe at its utter betrayal. While I’m having an internal battle, gasps and whispers ensue all around, as whoever he’s brought is unveiled.
Ratilda’s eyes widen. “Your M-Majesty, please, come forward.” She stutters on the words, clearly caught off guard by this sudden turn of events. By the formal title, I venture to guess that whoever it is rules this repulsive race of monsters and my earlier reaction to him only makes me feel worse. I can’t even look out at the crowd anymore. Shame lances through me at the way a simple voice could have me acting so out of character. Boys have never been my weakness and damn sure nobody as evil, because anyone coming to this event can’t be anything but.
What the hell is wrong with me?
